


That Post-Show Feeling

by kristophine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 00:57:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13987011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristophine/pseuds/kristophine
Summary: “Good show.” Bucky kept his eyes on the road. The freeway was like a hallucination in the three a.m. silence--nothing but a handful of eighteen-wheelers out there, their tail lights twinkling red in the darkness.“Think they liked the violin?”“I think they did.”





	That Post-Show Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble for wintergaydar, written last fall. LOOK I LIKE MODERN BAND AUS OKAY? IT'S NOT A PROBLEM IF IT STILL MAKES YOU HAPPY

Steve’s head lolled against the passenger seat. In the passing streetlights his face was striped in black and gold, neon flickering across his skin. Not that Bucky was looking; not that he’d notice.

“Good show,” Steve mumbled into the seatbelt. He was slumped down, feet propped up on the dash. His platform heels were kicked off in a pile on the floor next to the crumpled bag from Taco Bell.

“Good show.” Bucky kept his eyes on the road. The freeway was like a hallucination in the three a.m. silence--nothing but a handful of eighteen wheelers out there, tail lights twinkling red in the darkness.

“Think they liked the violin?”

“I think they did.”

There was silence for a few more exits, the fog line an impassive immovable object. Bucky was so tired he could feel reality flickering, a dream, like the glitter on Steve’s cheekbones.

“Let’s get, let’s get a fucking dog,” said Steve, almost slurring it. He hadn’t been drinking, but God, they’d had a long day.

“A dog?” Bucky repeated, baffled.

Steve blinked his eyes open. “A dog. A fucking--symbol of domesticity.”

“Steve,” said Bucky, heart abruptly pounding.

“Something you can’t explain away.” Steve’s eyes slipped shut again. “God. You know you look good in eyeliner. I’ve been in love with you since sixth grade and you’re still like this.”

Bucky watched his hands as they moved without his conscious input, guiding the car to the side of the road.

“What?” Steve lifted his head, squinting out at the fluorescent-lit shoulder. “We got a flat?”

Bucky slapped the button for the hazard lights and leaned his head forward against the steering wheel.

“Buck?”

He did what he’d been--hand to god--swearing to since sixth grade, and Steve gasped into his mouth.

(It was all perfect until the highway patrol showed up.)


End file.
